


Double-Crossed

by Vixen_Argentum



Category: Bleach
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Attempting Slow Burn, But we'll see while I transform the original materials, Double Agents, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Power Dynamics, Prisoner of War, Quincy Occupation of Hueco Mundo, Role Reversal, Thousand Year Blood War Arc
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:29:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27172463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vixen_Argentum/pseuds/Vixen_Argentum
Summary: Uryuu Ishida is leading a double life while plotting his course to take down the Wandenreich from the inside.  But while he helps preside over the occupation of Hueco Mundo, he learns that an old enemy, someone whom he thought died a long time ago, still lives.  Given the POW as a gift, it's up to Uryuu to decide whether this man is a powerful asset or a terrible liability...and most of all, to whom.Further notes within.
Relationships: Szayel Aporro Granz/Ishida Uryuu
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20





	1. The Unexpected Gift

**Author's Note:**

> All right lovelies! 
> 
> This is a fic based off of some very specific RP adventures. The setting is an AU where Szayel survived the Winter War, and was present for the quincy occupation of Hueco Mundo. The hard framework for the way that the occupation worked was developed with my indie Szayel at rameralasciva with the help of many interactions with many muns.
> 
> However, as this is an Uryuu/Szayel fic, the plot and characterizations of this story were developed in a ship between the private version of my Uryuu at heiligbogen and Bright who writes Szayel at svsure. This has been adapted from about 80ish pages of RP on discord that has spanned 2 years of work at varying speeds. 
> 
> Yes, I know, I’ve written Szayel for 6ish years at the-lewdest-concubine and rameralasciva, but this is not my personal characterization of him--all of the headcanoning about him in this fic is a product of svsure, and thus I am giving credit where credit is due, as I was given permission to put our work in fic form. :)
> 
> That said, we fell in love with the concept and figured that while it’s not perfect, and some oocness is inevitable in any fanwork because we are NOT Kubo...we thought some of y’all might enjoy it. And who doesn’t like a setting and circumstance that lends it SO WELL to NSFW? XD 
> 
> I am a literal garbage can...and if you've clicked on this...you probably are too. Sweet.
> 
> That said, the RP is not yet finished, and if the prose here catches up to the story there...I’ll figure out what to do. But that probably won’t happen for a while. There’s a lot to write for now.
> 
> Cheers-- Vix

Uryuu isn't pleased with the takeover of Hueco Mundo, but he's going to make the best of it. The sands had little strategy in them he felt, and yes, even though some arrancars could be bent to their will, it took time and effort and wasn't necessarily a good face for the quincy to project. Quincies were allergic to hollows--hollows destroyed them like antibodies, and yet here they were, purposefully seeking the strongest ones out. 

Uryuu found little use for hollows, though just like any living being, he understood that no hollows were born because they decided to exist. They were corrupted souls that suffered due to a lack of purification. As much as he and his ancestral blood hated them, he pitied them. It was the shinigamis’ job to ensure the dead a safe crossing, even if the crossing was indeed to hell. But knowing the reality doesn’t change the fact that if he or any other quincy was attacked, it would never feel wrong to kill them. The quincy way is to survive, and to survive by any means necessary, and it wasn’t their responsibility to ensure that the collapse of the world was not imminent. Their footprint on the earth was like hunter-gatherers; shinigami like vast cities, and if shinigami were really that lazy about their work, it served them right.

The Grandmaster had extended their realm across the desert, and Uryuu was sick of his heavy handed work, but he knew better than to say anything. The theaters of the war were multifaceted, and until the day came that they would storm Soul Society itself, he was stuck here, stuck in the limbo of endless preparation and infighting. But he had a job far more important than anything he’d ever attempted in his life. He’d hide his secrets and risk death, and if he slipped up, the world might be gone. 

The last time he’d been in Hueco Mundo, he’d been a boy, immature, headstrong and stubborn, preoccupied with personal motivations. But now, everything looks so different. His concerns he had then seem so small. He is returning as a man, with more resting on his shoulders than he’d ever thought possible. 

At the end of the day Uryuu is ready to rest. Preparing to change into pajamas and sleep, a knock on the door jolts him out of his thoughts. Opening the door, he receives a white envelope written on clearly with the Grandmaster’s meticulous handwriting, sticking out at him from the hand of a low ranking soldier. It is a receipt for a delivery, one he is not expecting. 

The soldier at the door looks nervous to be talking to him and Uryuu sighs. It’s bimodal in distribution; he’s treated with disdain among many of the Sternritters, though they often pretend otherwise, and with fearful awe by the foot soldiers within the Jagdarmee and the Soldat. 

“You’ve been assigned a war asset,” the young soldier says, nervously touching his neck. “I was told to pass this to you so that you may pick him up.”

Uryuu reads the intelligence report. It details the capture of an arrancar found defending his home, even though such a job is futile against a force the size of theirs. Hollows are fierce, but very few of them are actually smart. 

Confused as to why he was to receive this particular asset, he reads the Grandmaster’s more hastily written note on the script. The captive hollow is a former enemy, that Uryuu could do whatever he wished with as a gesture of good will as the newly appointed ‘A’. Uryuu isn’t pleased, nor does he trust the motive of the gift, but he is curious. 

A flowery but poignant line speaks volumes: 

_ “if no value of the captive can be ascertained in war, he may be killed or kept privately as is your right as an officer.’ _

Uryuu makes a face. He knows what that means and that other members of the military have partaken in this very specific spoil of war. He  _ knows _ of Halibel’s fate that would anger those in many worlds if it were known. But then, as he finishes reading, his stomach drops as he recognizes just  _ who _ the captive is. The name, Szayelaporro Granz, both strikes uneasiness into him, as well as a mixture of embarrassment and rage, but he forces the emotions down, not betraying any salient reaction to the courier. 

“Will you pick him up?” the man at the door asks, trembling around the edges a little, as if he’s terrified to trespass on Uryuu’s time and space. “I’ve been tasked to lead you to him. You know him, yes?”

“Yes, I know of him,” Uryuu says. He doesn’t hide the disdain in his voice.

The soldier hears his tone and becomes even more flustered. “Of course sir, if you don’t think he’s worth any investment, I’m sorry to bother you, we’ll kill him with the others and I’ll report back with your decision.”

It’s tempting, Uryuu thinks. He’s not a creature above revenge. But he’s different too than he once was. If he kills out of revenge for their last fight, then he’s only perpetuating a cycle. He’s had growing pains that have hurt, and now it’s a thorn in his side that not long ago he’d have no problem dismissing. Curse the loss of his pettiness, though he knows very well that loss of life is not a petty thing. He sighs, resigned, exhausted, sound hissing pointedly through his teeth.

“No, I’ll at least see him before I make that kind of decision. He’s a learned man, he may have use.”

“Yes, sir,” the courier says, relief showing on his young face. He bows shakily and leads Uryuu down the hallway. This day had started strangely and it appeared that it was going to end even more bizarre.

xXx

It is an embarrassing thing to be subjugated, but even more so to submit yourself willingly. Szayel isn’t ready to fight, not yet. He had only just woken up, and he was plagued with the nightmarish memories of the fight that nearly brought his demise. He doesn’t even know how he is alive, left in his store room, cut open and paralyzed due to the long acting drugs in his system. Even less helpful, it is all a blur after that. Days and nights; voices, thoughts, nightmares, pain. In his addled state, he’d wandered around and around. He'd tried to protect his home from these new invaders that he wasn’t able to place until after his capture. One brush with death was enough--now he would do whatever it took to survive, and so, when the sheer numbers of enemies became overwhelming, he’d surrendered.

After being detained in a holding cell, he is able to eavesdrop on conversations about him from his guards. He is to be given and trained into service as a quincy war asset, under the eye of an officer. Fear spikes through him until he hears something else that is peculiar and an ironic twist of fate indeed. 

Uryuu Ishisda--he knows that name. They’d fought and the boy had put up some entertainment, and he’d nearly killed him before he was nearly killed himself. Though now, he likely isn’t a boy anymore. He’s a man, an officer in an army. 

Szayel is relieved, frankly, since even if he is a captive, and a captive of a former enemy at that, there is at least familiarity. The devil you know is much less ominous than the one you don’t. Even with his scattered mind, he remembers from the last fight that Uryuu had a strong sense of justice, was practical, and wasn’t overly sadistic, unlike he’d seen in other officers during just in this short while of captivity. If he plays his cards correctly, he hopes he may be safe around the quincy until he can manage a viable escape plan. He just hopes fervently with all his heart that Uryuu doesn’t hold some aspect of their past against him.

The metal door of the holding cell opens and he’s leashed like a dog.

“Get moving,” the guard says, prodding him forward. “It’s your lucky day. You’ve been assigned to an officer rather than to our modified infantry. If you’re truly lucky, he’ll keep you alive.” 

The leash is pulled before he can open his mouth to speak, and he stumbles forward, resigned to his fate for now. 

The palace looks so different now from when Aizen had occupied it. It’s still pure white and pristine, but that’s where the similarities end. The furniture and decorations have been replaced with things that he can only guess are quincy in origin--he’s not seen such decor before. When he finally reaches the officers’ quarters, he is shocked to see how fancy the decor was growing in proximity to where he could only assume Uryuu is living. Is the boy he fought somehow nobility? If so, the tables had definitely turned on him since his life as a human. Once the noble and now the servant--once Espada and now prisoner, he’s had such a fall from grace.

xXx

Uryuu walks toward the table in the center of the floor. It’s in a meeting room that the upper officers have been using, but it’s late and thus empty so he guesses that’s why he’s receiving his gift  _ here _ . Szayel is already there, flanked by viscous looking guards. He waves the burly men away, as well as the soldier who guided him here. He can tell that his charge is not looking to bolt, and if anything does happen, it will be heard and everyone here will return. He’ll take his chances in a room with Szayel. For now, he just wants to learn just what is going on in private. He waits for the door to click shut, and the footsteps to fade down the hallway.

He sits up straight, hands resting on the table. "I understand you are Szayelaporro Granz, is that correct?" He asks.  _ Of course _ he knows who he is, but he lets the superiority slide into his skin. He wants the hollow to squirm, and the power coursing through him right now feels heady. "I understand you have abilities in theory, but exactly how they will benefit the quincy empire, I am not yet assured.”

“Why don't you tell me what you might do for me. Otherwise, I'm unsure why I should keep you alive," he says. He sits down across from him now, not quite yet daring to look into his eyes, still remembering very much what it was like to have every organ ruptured so that he could taste the brackish mix of blood and bile in his mouth. He sighs. "How exactly would you serve me, hollow. My reasons to keep you alive are short."

Szayel looks the man over and slides into his familiar character. 

“My, is this how you greet an old acquaintance? I thought we would reminisce of how we played.” His voice drips with honey. “I wonder, do you still enjoy dolls quite as much as me?” His voice is signaturely sly and cocky. But then he’s hit with an abrupt reality and he sighs. For as much of a genius as he is, when his pride is on the line, he’s stupid. 

The lizard aspect of his brain recognizes that this attitude will get him nowhere and right now he needs to do everything he can to eke out a life. After all, it’s temporary. If that means enslavement for a brief period of time, fine. If it means killing those he used to work alongside, simple. He would even sell off his body if he had to as well. He knows he’s destined for hell and he’s bound and determined that he’s  _ not _ going to end up there. He is a parasite, like a helminth, and just like that, he will survive.

“I apologize, you just bring back such good memories,” he says, voice lilting, and it's not entirely a lie. He drops a little bit of the cockiness. “Well, when I say good memories, I mean more refreshing. When you spend what seems like millennia being run through with a blade, it’s just nice to experience something other than agony.” 

Uryuu is still somewhat repulsed by his mannerisms, but this is better. Szayel seems to know and understand where he sits. Perhaps, it won’t be as terrible as he could have imagined. He’d seen the end of Szayel’s fight-- he knows exactly what he’s referring to and he nods. As much as he doesn’t particularly care for the cocky arrancar, he doesn’t wish Mayuri Kurotsuchi on anyone.

Szayel folds one leg over the other and straightens up, as if trying to salvage whatever dignity he does have.

“Now, I believe you know how I can be useful. I am Hueco Mundo’s greatest scientist and expert of spirit based weapons which I imagine your kind would find useful. With my knowledge from so many decades studying, I’m sure that in a matter of time I could create an  _ arsenal _ of highly advanced weapons for the quincies. Especially you,  _ little Uryuu _ .” Szayel can see his proud eyes flash. “I already know the reishi composition of your bow and of course I know how you perform your spell-like techniques. Already I can figure out quite a bit from that alone.” 

Szayel speaks confidently, but he’s finding himself pulled at by his baser instincts. Hollow instincts of animal origin that had shaped the very essence of his soul. One thing was for certain... that adorable boy had grown into quite the handsome man. He would gladly be taken by him, and the raw image of it was something that he was unable to keep from his mind. Now is not the time or place, but it’s in Szayel’s nature, whether confirmed by sword or hole. 

Uryuu rolls his eyes. He expects nothing less. It's been a long time since he's seen the Espada, but all of the memories come flooding back. The voice is saccharine and at the same time condescending, full of pride and overconfidence that Uryuu remembers all too well. But from time to time Szayel appears to become more aware of himself, lucid about the position that Uryuu has, and that he does not.

"So you do have a shred of sense," Uryuu says. "Your apology is accepted." 

He’s listened to the man speak, and of course it is of things that he already knows. They've got quite a repository of information on the current inhabitants of Hueco Mundo, lists of war capital, plans and backups. 

"You would be expected to do those things anyway," he says. "I suppose I will enlighten you a bit further on the predicament that you are in." He folds his hands together. "Most of my comrades do not care for hollow life. While your strategic value is understandable on paper, there is an old ancestral fear carried by all of quincy blood." He blinks, gaze flat. "I wish to see this initiative succeed, and thus as much as I loathe to say the words out loud, I do fear that you are more likely to make enemies here than friends."

He sighs, pushing glasses further up his nose. "Some are taking certain arrancars of strategic value as personal assistants. As the "A", if I take you as mine, it affords you a level of protection that you would not have otherwise. A mutual benefit, if you will." His slate eyes are cool.

"So, Szayelaporro Granz, how are you with domestic tasks?" Uryuu knows that this may come across as demeaning, but it’s one way he can feel out what exactly he can get out of the arrancar without too much worry.

Szayel listens closely, thinks things over. The idea of being his assistant, rather than some form of reprocessed fodder, or worse, killed, is a preferable alternative. While he hasn’t done many domestic chores, he’s someone that actually enjoys cleaning. He is a perfectionist through and through and he would go to extreme lengths just to assure not even a hair was out of place on him. 

His mind filters through what he does and doesn’t know about being any kind of a steward. It couldn’t be that hard. But there was one issue however that he could foresee. He has never cooked, not even as a human. While he was neglected by his noble parents, he was still brought food by their servants. He has never once even needed to cook.

“I would very much appreciate being your assistant. The level of protection that comes with it as well as the fact I won’t be pushed out onto the battlefield instantly is preferable. I’m not a fan of fighting so I would very much prefer working for you if it will keep me out of all of that nonsense.” 

Szayel fixes his own hair in what he can see in the polished mirror of the table. He pauses briefly before continuing. 

“I am quite pedantic when it comes to cleaning and sorting. However, I must inform you that…” He hates saying that he can’t do things. “That...I have never cooked before. I haven’t needed to for my whole life. But I assure you, inexperience doesn’t matter when you are as intelligent as me. I’m sure in a matter of time I could figure out how to do anything you desire.”

Uryuu knew that he would accept. He's too slippery, too oriented in self preservation not to. Whether or not this would be a good idea, time would tell, but as far as war capital was concerned...Szayel ironically was the only one in the current list of capital besides the hollow queen whom he recognized had a higher level of awareness, beyond the eat, fight, and destroy drives common amongst even evolved hollows. 

In theory, Szayel had a mind usable for something other than mindless killing, even if it may take time to tease it out of him. For now, before he can get him to make anything of use, he would just have him in his domestic life. As much as it might be a pain to know him, if Uryuu can eventually figure out how to orient him, then maybe his later jobs that will be carried out under smokescreen will be more easily hidden.

"That is fine," he says. "If you wish to try your hand at it, you may. But we do have our own staff for food due to the fact that we are at war, and thus operate off of supply lines with strict rationing. But as a Sternritter, rather than a soldier of lower standing like the Jagdarmee or Soldat, I have access to more privileged and rare items than most. If you are the type to attempt to ingratiate yourself to me, it's one thing you can try."

It's heady, having this position of power, Uryuu thinks, when the last time they'd crossed paths, he'd been choking on his own blood, and needing to rely on that disgusting shinigami captain to save his life, and heal him on top of that. It feels like a lifetime ago, one where he was just a frightened boy, terrified and not knowing if he would live, but now, as a soldier with the weight of the world on his mind, and a job that no one else living can do, he's become a man.

He nods. 

"Yes, I know that some of your capabilities are a bit more defensive in origin, and your healing abilities will likely be useful, if you are going to be by my side in any battlefield. But that won’t be for a little while now.” 

He folds his hands over one another.

“If you are good with cleaning, that's what I need the most. I have little time for menial tasks. I've been assigned my own rooms in the conquered palace of Las Noches, so if you keep them orderly while my work is undisturbed, it would be ideal. Likewise, you will be in charge of my uniforms, and I will make you something suitable as well." 

He looks at Szayel's clothing and frowns. 

"Any hints to previous allegiances should be expunged from your appearance, and tie you to me by sight alone. Likewise, you will stay with me there, which is in markedly better conditions than the rest of your brethren are kept. If these are acceptable terms to you, consider yourself in my service."

Uryuu swallows hard. This may be the worst decision he has ever made. But right now, he has few options and time that’s growing shorter and shorter. He may not have expected to get this opportunity, but like hell if he’s going to squander it.

He stares deeply into the golden eyes, forcing himself now to meet them, even if it feels as if he’s staring into the sun. He will not succumb to the feelings he felt in their last battle. No. This man doesn’t have that power over him anymore. “Congratulations, Szayelapollo Granz. Today begins your new life as a conscript to the  Wandenreich **.”**


	2. Eye of the Beholder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A nymphomaniac Szayel attempts to understand the motivations of a demisexual Uryuu. Even a genius has things to learn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's taken me a while. I'm doing a lot of training for a new certification in my career. This takes a lot of focus for me to edit into something that looks like prose and is understandable in a fic format.
> 
> I'm trying to make each chapter worth 6 pages of MS Word in length. That way there's about enough content for a real scene, and I'm not absolutely dying trying to finish huge chunks.
> 
> Enjoy!

Szayel listens closely. It feels as if his whole world has been torn down. It’s embarrassing to be serving someone he previously defeated, and the unpleasantness is visceral, slithering its way inside him. But he knows that this is the safest option--no, the  _ only _ option. He wants to live; he  _ needs _ to live. If he dies, he will end up in hell, and that isn’t somewhere he ever wants to be. He’s ready to do anything to stay alive. If that means being resigned to slavery, he will do it.   
  
“Thank you for your understanding. I assure you I will serve you to the best of my ability,” he says, slight bitterness to his tone. 

It is easy to tell that this situation isn’t ideal for the man who came from an aristocratic human background. But, his mind catches on a different fact. A commonality they both shared. He however is rather shocked hearing that the man will make his clothes. 

“I beg your pardon, but... you’re a tailor?” He questions with evident shock. “If that’s the case... may I oversee how you design what I wear? I assume you know that I do still want to remain fashionable.” 

He leans on his hand, a content look glossing over his features. Now he muses about a situation less dire than he’d originally imagined. Could he and the Quincy have more in common than he’d previously thought? Did they both have an interest in high fashion, it’s design, production and display?

Uryuu hears the astringency in Szayel’s tone, but no matter. Compared to what he's lived through with Szayel, a bit of humiliation is only a small price to pay. But the next question is surprising to him, how Szayel’s countenance immediately changes and lightens. But then, memories come back to him that he’d kept a lid upon for the past few years. He remembers Szayel leaving mid-fight to change clothes in a dramatic announcement, and things begin to make sense. 

"Well yes, I am,” he says, pushing on his glasses. He looks down at his hands, finding it hard to keep continuous eye contact with the wild eyes of the hollow, and then looks down at his hand sewn Quincy uniform. “Almost everything I wear, outside of my school uniform, which is a required purchase, I have made myself." 

He can't help the smile that spreads across his lips. But he raises an eyebrow at the next comment. "Oh don't worry, it will be fashionable. If I'm to look at you every day, you're going to be wearing something pleasing to me. While I have some idea of your aesthetic, and there is some overlap, you will be expected to blend in with us as well."

Szayel can't help but smirk. Uryuu doesn’t quite understand the trap that he’s laid for himself. The hollow can’t help the ideas that spring to mind, chewing on the idea of the comment. What he is to wear to be pleasing to the archer...and to Szayel, pleasing means something very specific. 

"In what way pleasing to you?" he asks, his teeth grazing briefly over his lower lip. He is one for making lewd comments, so it’s even better that he can twist someone's own words into something of that nature.

"My, I do wonder, will there be latex? I have to be appealing to you dont I? I'm sure I can be very appealing." The cadence of his voice is a slight purr as he leans in closer. 

He wonders, how will the Quincy take his comments? He’s had a reputation for nymphomania among his own kind. However, with the current hostile takeover of Hueco Mundo, as well as the Winter War leaving few remaining arrancar, he wonders if that reputation has possibly reached the ears of those he now serves? Will his reputation precede him, and will it be an asset?

Uryuu hadn't forgotten about this aspect of his persona, though he's unsure of whether it is bark or bite. He casts his gaze to the side with a faint blush. In his life consumed by fight and heritage, his own sexuality isn't something that he's dwelled much upon, and when it does surface, sometimes it alienates him. With Szayel, he's torn between being disgusted by such a flagrant display, and being jealous that something that he has such a hard time understanding and expressing comes second nature to the hollow, sexuality, desire like breathing.

"Probably not," Uryuu says dryly. 

He's not going to give a strong reaction, as he knows that the arrancar thrives off of drama. Not letting much inflection sink into his voice, he brushes it aside.

"I don't mean appealing in that way. And even if I did..." He's not sure why he's telling him these things. "I'm rather unsure of my own tastes and if you would suit any of them."

Szayel hums at that last comment. Uryuu in a way is rather naive... and frankly, he finds this somewhat adorable. Szayel stands, walks around the table and moves to sit down on the arm of the young man’s chair. He looms over the black haired male, feeling his inner call to offer himself. 

"Unsure as to your own tastes?” He says. His voice is slightly saccharine and similarly warmed with the sweet purr of his tone. “How sweet" 

His hand reaches out and brushes through the short locks under his fingertips. 

"I can help you discover your preferences." In his element, he leans down so that his cool breath would ghost upon the man's neck.

As Szayel approaches him and Uryuu’s guard rises. Perched on the arm of his chair, he's dangerously close now, and it's uncomfortable. From there, he sits so much taller than Uryuu, from his natural height, combined with the boost from the leather arm. Fingers run through his hair and he's at a loss for what to think or do. 

He's pulled in a dichotomy--his blood runs cold, his temper runs hot, and at the same time, the touch causes his hair to stand on end, and the flush of his cheeks to grow hotter. In fact, he's never been touched like that. The breath down his neck makes him suppress a shiver, feelings mixed partially by sensation just as much as the sense of violation.

He lashes out, smacking away the hand, his heart thudding in his chest, eyes electrified with a mix of surprise, anger, and confusion. 

"Absolutely not!" His voice echoes against the stone walls with more volume than he’d meant to speak with. Now this is starting to remind him truly of the last time they met. 

"I can still dismiss you. Consider your position here." 

He tries to calm himself as best as he can. He knows that this is for a reaction. That's how this man works. But knowing and feeling are two different things, and Uryuu is trying wholeheartedly to separate the two. 

From Szayel’s point of view however, the way the Uryuu reacts is a delight to witness. He watches the man's chest heave with the sharp intake of air, the increased pulse he sees in a vein that lies close to the skin, the way the fine hairs of Uryuu’s body stand on end. What really puts the cherry on top of the proverbial cake is the flushed pigment adorning the man's cheeks. It’s a wonder to behold. 

However, physical appeal aside, the commanding tone in his voice is something that makes his blood pump and his temperature rise. He bites his lip again as he looks once more over the man he’s now tied to. He’s smitten with the fact he’s teased such an explosive reaction out of him. 

"Oh my, I really didn't mean to offend.” Clinical coolness with a thinly veiled cast of superiority due to expertise seeps into his tone. “I assumed since I would be your assistant I would be serving you in all kinds of ways.”

He continues, keeping himself in a precarious distance, far enough away to not provoke Uryuu, and yet close enough to let him feel his presence. The warmth of his body, hinting at the silk of his skin and the skill of his hands, the life he could feel if he just let Szayel touch. 

“I thought the greatest service I could offer you was my incredible body. I'm a beautiful man, Uryuu and I just wanted to make sure I served you in all the right ways." 

With that he rises and soon returns to his seat. Satisfaction is evident across his face, perhaps with a hint of a fulfilled daydream.

Uryuu sighs. It's wishful thinking on Szayel's part. 

"Of course you did. How soon I forget that your mind is forever in the gutter." His tone is even, acknowledging but dismissing. 

He didn’t want to lose his cool, but tensions are high from his secret plans as well as his expected workload. The more time passes, the more his heart rate settles. His blush fades quickly as well. He sees the smug smile, but truly...it's because Szayel hasn't really thought about the implications much. He doesn’t know anything about Uryuu at all, why he is what he is, why he feels what he feels. But, if he’s to work with him, he knows that they’ll have to find understanding on some level. 

He extends an olive branch that may be taken or brushed aside. Strangely, he’s curious which option Szayel will take. After all, he’s learning about his charge as well.

"You realize that in such a situation, I am a much greater gift than you are," he says pointedly. 

"I'm sure there are plenty, alive and dead, who've partaken in your "services". But for me to give you any of myself...would be to let you have something no one else has had. An unopened gift. Rarer than gold." 

Szayel's mannerisms drive him insane, but for once, it is nice to have someone else to talk to. Even if it's him. Even if it's about this. His voice is soft with his honesty.

"Nothing you've shown me of yourself is deserving of that. Perhaps I am an idealist, but I do what is right for myself, rather than what may be popular. I don’t mean to be rude, but this is how I feel."

Szayel listens, and it only serves to give him more new tidbits of information to think about. He finds it unusual that the young man is still a virgin. But of course he can only draw from his own experiences. Szayel has always been a promiscuous man, not really able to understand the desire to conserve oneself, especially another man. But, for once in his life, he’s finding this brush with someone who lacks experience interesting. Usually, if someone lacks knowledge from a dearth of experience, It’s quite a turn off. While he knows that many would jump at the chance to have someone’s first time, He’s always found it annoying to have to teach a lover. While Szayel is a master and can take either role, he’s always prefered being the center of attention of someone similarly seasoned. 

"I don't apologize then. I'm so used to most people that disregard my status.” He pauses before making an amend. “Well, former status now. But usually I’ve only been seen as someone who is meant to be the object of someone else’s pleasure." he admits. 

Uryuu has been candid with him, and strangely he finds himself mirroring it as well. Truthfully, he’s always hidden the issues he’s had with himself behind a wall of vast overconfidence tied to promiscuity. After lives of trauma, he’s convinced himself that he is only really wanted for his body. He's never had a genuine relationship with anyone because of factors buried deep in his subconscious.

Uryuu sighs at the confession. "It's all right. I know you're not..." he fumbles looking for the word. Civilized? No. Refined? That's not it either... "Oh never mind," he says. "It's not something that you need to do or be concerned with." 

He appraises Szayel for a moment, how quickly he flits from one persona to the next, one moment holding himself in high esteem and then seconds later admitting to being only fit for objectification. He's not unattractive, no, at least in the aesthetic sense, but Uryuu's never really been stirred in the kind of way that makes "real" men purchase bawdy magazines and say gross things in locker rooms. He'd wondered if he was broken, when most of his friends slipped into teenage hormones and he remained level-headed and cool, but now he's beyond that. He's working as a traitor in the quincy regime, and it's hard, isolating, and dangerous work. He doesn't have time to worry about that now. 

He thinks for a minute and realizes that he's probably going to open himself up to the same sorts of behaviors from Szayel again and again, but it needs to be done. Making clothing requires being inside someone’s personal space in some steps. 

"All right, if I'm going to get you something suitable to wear, I need to take your measurements."

Szayel’s head snaps up as Uryuu speaks about him. He isn’t what? He’s confused frankly when the man pauses... but he doesn’t disregard what he was going to say. He thinks it over. When Uryuu affirms that he didn’t need to worry about his body being used, he can’t help a small smile that peeks through his more down trodden expression. 

For once in his life he feels like he might finally get respect from someone that was above him. He’d never even gotten respect from the two lower espada either, but especially those higher than he'd always been looked at with sustain. And from the numeros, he’d only really gotten fear. 

Szayel is even more relieved to serve the A now. He watches the man fall into deep contemplation. He’s curious what is on his mind. When he’s about to ask him however, Uryuu speaks, instructing him about his measurements being taken. He nods. He was going to make lewd comments or even enjoy the man being so close, but he bites his tongue. 

It’s clear that now he is safer with Uryuu. He won’t dare serve another sternritter when someone he knows to be just and cares for others is the one he is to be serving. Uryuu is a blessing, and from now he would try his damndest. He doesn’t want to be handed off to someone more sadistic, especially like the ”jail” that rounded up the arrancar. That man sent shivers down his spine, and fear and violation like that was a difficult thing to accomplish.

Uryuu sees the small smile and he's a little puzzled. Szayel isn't someone he understands well, but he at least seems to have calmed down a bit and stopped with the posturing, so he's relieved. While he needed to watch over someone like Szayel to appear to his fellows as if he was managing assets, more than a little part of him was worried that having Szayel in his daily life would drive him up the wall. But if he's going to be like this, more authentic in character, Uryu might actually get used to the company.


End file.
